Jersey Mike's MenuPrices & Calories 2026

This is an independent price and nutrition guide, not an ordering site and not an official one. Every item on the board is listed with a current estimated price, a calorie figure and a description written to tell you what the thing is actually like to eat — not what a marketing department would say about it.

The reason a guide like this exists is straightforward. Franchise locations set their own prices, the printed board in your local shop does not carry calorie counts next to each item, and the official nutrition calculator makes you build a sub before it tells you anything. If you want to know what a Club Supreme costs and what it does to your day before you are standing at the counter, that information is oddly hard to get in one place.

So the Jersey Mike's menu is laid out here by category, with prices and calories side by side, plus the things that genuinely change the maths: what Mike's Way adds, how much a giant actually saves when shared, which subs are lighter than they look, and which are heavier. Prices are typical U.S. estimates gathered from public sources and updated monthly. They will not match your local shop to the cent, and the section on location pricing further down explains why.

Calorie counts across the menu run from about 15 for a pickle spear to over 1,080 for a regular Big Kahuna Cheese Steak. For the subs specifically, the working range is roughly 480 to 1,080 for a regular, and the single biggest variable is not the meat — it is the bread and the cheese.

That surprises most people. A turkey sub feels lighter than an Italian, and it is, but only by around 190 calories for a regular. Both are sitting on the same roll, which accounts for a substantial share of the total before any filling goes on. This is why ordering a sub in a tub or on a salad drops the count so dramatically: you are removing the largest single component.

The second largest lever is cheese. A slice of provolone or white American adds roughly 80 to 100 calories, and most subs come with it by default. Asking for no cheese is a bigger saving than switching from mayo to mustard, and it is the change people are least likely to think of.

Oil is the third. The oil and vinegar finish that defines the Italian-style subs is not a trivial garnish — a standard application adds meaningful calories, almost all of it from the oil rather than the vinegar. Asking for extra vinegar and light oil keeps the flavour profile while cutting a noticeable amount. It is the single most efficient trade on the board.

The numbers on this site are for a standard build at regular size. Adding bacon, extra cheese or extra meat pushes a sub several hundred calories higher, and the official nutrition calculator is the place to check a specific custom order if you are tracking closely for medical reasons.

A mini runs roughly five inches, a regular around seven, and a giant about fourteen. The pricing does not scale linearly, which is where the decision gets interesting.

A mini is typically around two-thirds the price of a regular for closer to two-thirds the bread but proportionally less filling. If you routinely leave a third of a regular behind, the mini is straightforwardly the better buy. If you finish a regular comfortably, the mini will leave you short and you will end up adding a side, which erases the saving.

The giant is the genuinely good deal, but only when shared. A giant is roughly double a regular in price for roughly double the length, which sounds like no saving at all until you account for the fact that two people splitting one giant get more filling per person than two people buying regulars, because the giant is built with proportionally more meat. Split between two, it works out cheaper per head. Eaten alone across two sittings, it is fine but the second half suffers — the roll softens in the fridge.

For groups of three or more, the arithmetic shifts again toward catering boxes, which are priced per person rather than per sub and almost always undercut the same number of individual orders.

The cheapest thing on the Jersey Mike's menu is the pickle spear at around $1.49, and it is genuinely the best value item on the board — around 15 calories, and the acidity does more for a rich cheesesteak than a bag of chips does. The cheapest regular sub is the Veggie at around $8.99, followed by the Chicken Salad and Ham and Provolone in the $10.25 to $10.45 range.

The most expensive line on a typical order is rarely the sub. It is the combination of a drink and a side, which together add around $5.50 and are the two easiest things to remove. A fountain drink with free refills is good value if you are eating in and poor value if you are collecting, since a supermarket multipack costs a fraction per can.

Where the real value sits is in the cold subs at regular size, ordered Mike's Way, with a pickle instead of chips. That combination gets you the most food and the most flavour for the least money, and it is what most regulars end up ordering without ever having worked it out deliberately.

The rewards programme is worth joining purely because it costs nothing. Points accumulate toward a free regular sub, and there is usually a sign-up incentive and a birthday reward. App-exclusive offers are rarely advertised in-shop, so checking the offers tab before ordering rather than after is a habit that pays for itself.

Every location sets its own prices. That is not a caveat added to protect this guide — it is how the franchise model works, and it produces real differences between shops a few miles apart.

Locations in major metros such as New York or Los Angeles commonly run 10 to 20% above a typical suburban shop. Airport, stadium, campus and highway rest-stop locations sit at the top of that range or beyond, because concession rents are substantially higher and the captive audience supports it. If a price on a board looks wrong against this page, checking whether you are in one of those settings usually explains it.

Delivery apps add another layer. Menu prices inside DoorDash or Uber Eats typically run 15 to 25% above in-shop prices before delivery fees, service fees and tip. The marked-up menu price is easy to miss because it looks like a normal menu. Ordering for collection through the shop's own app avoids that entirely and is the single largest saving available on a delivery order.

Taken together, the same sub can differ by several dollars between a suburban collection order and an airport delivery order. The figures on this page describe the middle of that range — a typical standalone U.S. location, collected in person.

The board is organised by number, and the numbering is the first thing that confuses newcomers. Cold subs and hot subs share a single numbered sequence rather than running in separate blocks, so the numbers jump around and there is no reliable pattern to infer. Ordering by name is entirely normal and nobody will think anything of it.

The second thing worth knowing is that the queue moves in a fixed order: you order, the meat is sliced in front of you, then the sub moves down the line to be dressed. If you want something changed, say it at the start rather than at the till. Asking for no cheese after the cheese has gone on means the sub gets rebuilt, which slows everyone down and is easily avoided.

Bread choice comes early and matters more than people expect. The white roll is the default and the one every calorie figure on this page assumes. A wheat option is usually available, and gluten-free rolls are stocked at most shops though cross-contact in a shared prep line is unavoidable, so a serious allergy warrants a conversation with the manager rather than a request at the counter.

Finally, the size question comes before the topping questions, so decide that first. Most first-time visitors default to a regular, which is the right call — it is the size every price and calorie count on this Jersey Mike's menu guide refers to, and it makes comparing what you paid against this page straightforward.

Sub chains do not generally issue the kind of public coupon codes that sites promise. What exists instead is a rewards programme, app-exclusive offers and periodic promotions, and those are worth considerably more than any code you would find through a search.

The rewards programme is free and points accumulate toward a free regular sub, with a sign-up incentive and a birthday reward on top. The app-exclusive offers are the part people miss — they are rarely advertised on the board in shop, so a customer who orders at the counter without checking the app is routinely paying more than the person behind them.

Beyond promotions, the largest reductions come from ordering decisions rather than discounts. Dropping the drink and the side saves around $5.50 on a single order, which is more than most promotions deliver. Splitting a giant between two people beats two regulars. Ordering a mini instead of a regular saves roughly a third if you were going to leave food anyway.

For groups, catering boxes priced per person are consistently cheaper than the same number of individual subs, and they arrive with the sides bundled. If you are feeding five or more people from the Jersey Mike's menu, that is the route worth pricing first rather than last.

Gift card bonus promotions around the winter holidays are the other reliable saving — buying cards during that window often earns bonus cards worth a meaningful percentage of the spend, which is straightforward money off if you eat there regularly anyway.

Feeding children from a sub shop is mostly a portion problem rather than a menu problem. A mini sub is roughly the right size for a child under about ten, and a kids mini with a small drink typically lands around six dollars, which is competitive with anywhere else on a high street. Most children want it plain, and asking for it without Mike's Way is completely routine — the sub is built to order regardless.

For offices, the arithmetic changes at around five people. Below that, individual subs are simpler and roughly the same price. Above it, catering boxes priced per head start to undercut individual orders meaningfully, and they arrive with sides bundled rather than charged separately at $2.29 to $3.29 each.

The practical advice for any group order is to reduce variety rather than increase it. Three well-chosen subs in quantity — one cold Italian-style, one plain turkey, one vegetarian — cover almost every preference in a normal office and are far easier for the shop to produce accurately than fifteen bespoke orders. Accuracy matters more than choice when the food arrives at a desk rather than a counter.

Order at least a day ahead for anything over about ten people, and longer around holidays and graduation season when catering slots fill early. Confirm dietary requirements when you book rather than on the day, and keep those portions physically separate from the main platters rather than at the end of the same line.

One last note on timing: cold subs travel and hold far better than hot ones, so a group order from the cold section of the Jersey Mike's menu will be in noticeably better condition an hour later than an equivalent order of cheesesteaks.

Bread is the component people think about least and the one that changes the outcome most. Four choices cover almost every order: plain white, wheat, rosemary parmesan, and a gluten-free roll from Udi's. Everything else on the board — the meat, the cheese, the vegetables, the finish — is layered onto whichever of those you pick, and the roll is carrying a larger share of the total than the filling on most cold subs.

The white roll is the default and the baseline. It is baked in-shop through the day, which is the single practical reason to order from a busy location rather than a quiet one: turnover means a roll that came out of the oven more recently. A sub built on bread baked four hours ago is a noticeably different sandwich from one built on bread baked forty minutes ago, and no amount of care with the filling compensates.

Wheat is the same size and broadly the same calorie count. People order it expecting a meaningful nutritional difference and there is not one worth planning around. It has a slightly firmer crumb, which holds up marginally better under oil and vinegar, and that is the honest case for it. If you are choosing wheat for health reasons, the change that actually moves the number is the one described in the next section.

Rosemary parmesan is the one worth trying if you have never had it. It carries roughly forty-five additional calories over the plain roll and it changes the character of the sub more than any single ingredient swap available. On the plainer cold subs — ham and provolone, turkey and provolone — it does most of the work that a sauce would otherwise do, which makes it a useful way to keep a simple sub interesting without adding mayonnaise. On the heavily built Italian-style subs it competes rather than complements, and the plain roll is the better call there.

The gluten-free roll costs about a dollar fifty more and runs roughly fifty-five calories lighter than the standard roll. Two honest caveats. It is a smaller roll, so a regular on gluten-free bread is genuinely less food than a regular on white. And a sub shop that slices cured meat, handles wheat rolls and shares a preparation surface all day is not a coeliac-safe environment, whatever the roll itself is made of. If you are avoiding gluten by preference the roll does the job; if you are avoiding it medically, the tub option in the next section removes the variable entirely.

One practical note that applies to every bread choice: ask for the sauce on the side if you are not eating within about ten minutes. Oil, vinegar, chipotle mayo and ranch all begin softening the roll immediately, and a sub that was excellent at the counter is noticeably worse by the time it reaches a desk across town.

The honest answer is a range, and anyone giving you a single national figure is guessing. Across the United States a regular sub typically lands between nine and thirteen dollars, a mini between six and nine, and a giant between fourteen and twenty. The spread is not noise — it is the actual variation between a suburban strip-mall shop and a downtown location paying five times the rent.

What a full meal costs is the more useful question, because almost nobody orders a sub alone. A regular sub with a bag of chips and a fountain drink typically runs fifteen to nineteen dollars before tax and tip. Dropping the drink and bringing your own takes roughly three dollars off. Dropping to a mini and swapping chips for a pickle spear brings the same meal in around ten. Those three configurations are the realistic bookends for one person, and the gap between them across five weekday lunches is close to fifty dollars.

Ordering for two changes the arithmetic in a way most people never test. Two regulars run around twenty-four dollars. One giant split between two people typically runs sixteen to eighteen and delivers more filling per person, because the price gap between regular and giant is proportionally smaller than the size gap. This is the most reliable saving available to a couple, it requires no coupon, and it works on every sub on the board.

On the current Jersey Mike's menu figures used throughout this site, the cheapest sub is the Veggie at $8.99 and the most expensive regular subs sit in the twelve-to-thirteen-dollar range. Sides start at $2.29, drinks at $3.19, desserts at $2.29. Kids meals land around $6.49. Those are typical U.S. estimates and the section on regional pricing further down explains how far your local shop can reasonably sit from them.

Two things reliably push a bill above these bands. The first is delivery: app menu prices commonly run fifteen to twenty-five percent above in-shop prices before the delivery fee, service fee and tip are added, which means a fifteen-dollar meal routinely arrives as a twenty-eight-dollar transaction. The second is captive locations — airports, stadiums, motorway service areas and university campuses — where a ten to twenty percent premium over a suburban shop is normal and not a mistake.

The cold board is where the value sits, and it is worth understanding as a set rather than as a list. Everything on it is sliced to order rather than cooked, which means the labour cost per sub is lower, the portion is more generous relative to price, and the difference between a good shop and a mediocre one shows up more clearly. A cold sub is close to unimprovable when the meat was cut two minutes ago and noticeably ordinary when it was cut at the start of a shift.

The plainest builds are the useful benchmarks. Ham and Provolone at $10.45 and 800 calories, and Turkey and Provolone at $10.75 for the identical 800, are the two subs to order if you want to judge a shop rather than a recipe. That they share a calorie count surprises people who assume turkey is automatically lighter — the roll and the cheese account for most of both totals, and the deli meat is a smaller share than it looks.

Roast Beef and Provolone at $12.45 is the best protein-per-calorie choice on the board and one of the pricier cold subs, so you are paying for the meat rather than the build. It is top round, sliced thin and piled loose rather than pressed flat, and the looseness is what keeps it tender. If your shop stocks horseradish, ask for it on the side — it costs nothing and changes the sub completely.

The Italian-style builds run in a clear line. Jersey Shore's Favorite is the shortest and lightest at 810 calories: provolone, ham and cappacuolo. The Super Sub adds prosciuttini and lands at 820. The Original Italian adds salami and pepperoni on top of that and reaches 930. Nearly the entire calorie difference across those three subs is the salami and pepperoni, and the flavour difference is the same story — more salt, more cure, more assertiveness. If the full Italian has ever tasted muddled to you, drop back one step rather than abandoning the style.

Tuna Fish at 1,050 calories for a regular is the item that most reliably defeats expectations. It is heavier than the Original Italian, because tuna salad carries mayonnaise distributed throughout rather than spread across one surface. It is mixed fresh on the premises, which is unusual in the category and shows in the texture, and it is also the sub that degrades fastest in a bag — order it to eat immediately or order something else.

The Club Sub and Club Supreme sit at the top of the calorie range for the whole board, above every cheese steak, at 1,150 and 1,160 for a regular. Bacon and mayonnaise together are the reason. They are excellent subs and there is nothing wrong with ordering one; it is simply worth knowing that the heaviest thing on the Jersey Mike's menu is on the cold board rather than the hot one, which is the opposite of what almost everyone assumes.

The Veggie closes the board at $8.99, the cheapest sub available, with Swiss, provolone and green bell peppers. At 880 calories it is not the lightest — two cheeses carry more than one slice of deli meat, so it lands above both the ham and the turkey. That is worth knowing if you chose it expecting a diet option. Ordered as a tub it drops to roughly 590 and becomes one.

Sides, drinks and desserts are individually trivial and collectively the difference between a ten-dollar lunch and a nineteen-dollar one. A bag of chips at $2.29 and a fountain drink at $3.19 add five dollars and forty-eight cents to every single order, which across five weekday lunches is more than the entire cost of an additional sub.

This is the least emotionally difficult saving available anywhere on the menu, because nobody has strong feelings about a bag of chips. Bringing a drink from home five days a week saves roughly sixteen dollars, beats most promotional offers the chain runs, and requires nothing beyond remembering. If you want a saving that does not involve eating differently, this is it.

The pickle spear at the low end of the sides list is worth knowing about specifically. It is inexpensive, it is close to calorie-free, and it does the job a side is actually doing at a sub-shop lunch, which is providing something to eat between bites rather than adding bulk. Ordered instead of chips it removes both cost and around 150 calories from the meal.

Bottled drinks price above fountain drinks and offer nothing in return except portability. If you are eating in the shop, the fountain is cheaper. If you are taking it away, water from home is cheaper than both.

Desserts are simple: a chocolate chip cookie and a brownie, both around $2.29 to $2.79. The cookies are baked in-shop and are better warm than cold, which is a genuine argument for eating in rather than taking away. Neither is a significant part of a bill unless it becomes a habit, and both are entirely reasonable things to want. This page is not going to lecture you about a cookie.

The only side worth actively avoiding on value grounds is any combo bundle that packages a drink and chips at a small discount against buying them separately. The discount is real and the comparison is wrong: the alternative is not buying them separately, it is not buying them at all.

The crossover point is around five people. Below it, ordering individual subs is simpler, roughly the same money, and everybody gets exactly what they wanted. Above it, catering formats priced per head start to undercut individual ordering meaningfully, and the gap widens with group size.

A realistic per-person figure for a sub-shop catering order lands somewhere between eight and fourteen dollars depending on format and location, against twelve to nineteen for the same people ordering individually with a drink and a side each. The saving comes from two places: sides arrive bundled rather than charged at $2.29 to $3.29 a head, and platter formats use giants cut into portions rather than individual regulars, which is the same efficiency that makes splitting a giant work for two people.

The single most useful piece of advice for a group order is counterintuitive: reduce variety rather than increase it. Three well-chosen subs in quantity cover almost every preference in a normal office — one cold Italian-style build, one plain turkey, one vegetarian. Fifteen bespoke orders produce more errors, take longer to make, arrive in worse condition, and are harder to redistribute when somebody does not turn up. Accuracy matters more than choice when food is being eaten at a desk rather than a counter.

Cold subs travel and hold dramatically better than hot ones. An order of cheese steaks that was excellent leaving the shop is disappointing forty minutes later; an equivalent order of cold subs is essentially unchanged. For any group order that involves a journey or a wait, the cold board is not merely the cheaper choice but the better one.

Order at least a day ahead for anything above roughly ten people, and give considerably more notice around graduation season, the winter holidays and major sporting events, when catering slots fill early and a same-day request will simply be declined. Confirm dietary requirements at the time of booking rather than on the day, and ask for those portions to be packed separately rather than placed at the end of the same platter, where they stop being separate within about ninety seconds of the platter being opened.

If you are costing a specific group order rather than reading generally, build it in the meal planner — it totals cost and calories as you add items, which is faster than adding up a menu by hand and less prone to the optimistic arithmetic that group orders tend to attract.

Every location is independently franchised, and franchisees set their own prices within whatever framework the parent company provides. That is the entire explanation for the variation you will see, and it is not a loophole or an inconsistency — it is how the model works. A shop pays its own rent, its own local wages and its own supply costs, and the board reflects them.

The practical result is a spread of roughly twenty to thirty percent between the cheapest and most expensive markets in the country for the same sub. A regular that is $9.50 in a small-town strip mall in the Midwest is comfortably $12.50 in downtown Manhattan, San Francisco or Boston, and neither figure is wrong. Suburban locations in mid-sized metros sit near the national middle, which is broadly where the estimates on this page are pitched.

Four categories of location run consistently above the local norm and are worth recognising before you are surprised at the till. Airports, where a captive audience and extraordinary rents typically add ten to twenty percent. Stadiums and arenas, where the premium is larger still. Motorway service areas and travel plazas. And university campus locations, which are usually operated under a different arrangement than a standalone franchise and priced accordingly.

Prices also move over time in ways a static page cannot track perfectly. Increases tend to arrive in one adjustment rather than gradually, and they do not land everywhere simultaneously. A figure on this site checked a month ago against a shop in one state may already be superseded in another. That is why every price here is labelled an estimate, and why the review date at the top of the page is the last full check rather than the last edit of any kind.

The way to use a page like this one is as a planning tool and a sanity check, not as a quote. It tells you what a sub broadly costs, which items are expensive relative to each other, and roughly what your week will run to. It cannot tell you what the board in your local shop says this afternoon, and any site claiming otherwise is overstating what it knows.

If your local prices sit more than about two dollars away from the figures here in either direction, that is genuinely useful information and worth sending in. A photograph of a menu board with a city attached is the fastest way to improve a guide like this, and corrections that check out are normally reflected within a few days.

Sub-shop vocabulary is short but it is not obvious, and being unsure what a word means is a genuinely uncomfortable way to stand in a queue. The list below covers everything you are likely to hear. None of it is jargon you need to use — every term has a plain-English equivalent that staff will understand perfectly well.

If you read nothing else on this page, five things carry most of the value. Order it as a tub when you want the same food for around 290 fewer calories at the same price. Split a giant when there are two of you. Bring your own drink. Ask for sauce on the side unless you are eating immediately. And order from the busy shop rather than the quiet one, because sliced-to-order meat is the whole point and it only works when the slicer is running.

Beyond that, the numbers on this page exist so you can make your own trade-offs rather than be told what to order. The Original Italian at 930 calories is an excellent sandwich and there is nothing wrong with wanting it. The point of listing the figure is that you get to decide what it is worth on a given day, which is not a decision anybody can make for you and not one this site is going to pretend to.

Prices here are typical U.S. estimates, reviewed monthly, and your local franchise sets its own. Calories are for standard builds at regular size. Where a figure is an estimate rather than a published number, this guide says so, because a price guide that overstates its own precision is worse than no price guide at all.

Everything is laid out by category above with prices, calories and honest notes on each item. The meal planner totals a week for you, the coupons page covers what actually reduces a bill, and the guides section goes deeper on nutrition, sizes and value than a single page reasonably can.

A note on how to use the Jersey Mike's menu information on this site alongside the official one. Use the chain's own app or website for ordering, for exact allergen statements, and for the precise nutrition of a specific custom build — those are things only the company can tell you accurately. Use this page for the comparisons the official sources do not make: which sub is heavier than it looks, what a size change is actually worth, where a week of lunches lands, and which of the trade-offs available to you cost nothing at all. The two sources answer different questions, and between them you should not need a third.